


You can take the oxygen straight out of my own chest

by Jura_lyn



Series: I'm leaving tomorrow morning [7]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Arguing, Blood, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Mentioned Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Toby Smith | Tubbo, References to Depression, Self-Harm, Sleepy Bois Inc Angst, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:20:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28925697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jura_lyn/pseuds/Jura_lyn
Summary: Tommy knows that Wil and dad need to talk about this kind of stuff to him. They can’t talk to each other, because that evolves into even more shouting, so they can only talk to Tommy. Tommy understands this, he doesn’t mind listening to them.He just wishes they would ask him how he’s doing.They don’t notice how he’s getting worse. He isn’t eating anymore, he barely sleeps and he feels numb more times than he would like to admit.
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: I'm leaving tomorrow morning [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1986931
Comments: 23
Kudos: 348
Collections: Completed stories I've read





	You can take the oxygen straight out of my own chest

**Author's Note:**

> I just need to let the feels go you know. I know I already had a suicide fic but you know, whatever.
> 
> enjoy
> 
> TW: Blood, suicidal thoughts, self-harm, shouting, swearing  
> All of that stuff
> 
> (btw, title: sleeping at last - two)

Tommy is sitting in his room, headphones on with the music put on a hundred percent. He could hear Wil and dad arguing again. Wil’s grades have been dropping and he isn’t studying for anything anymore. Tommy noticed how Phil got more frustrated by it, not wanting Wil to waste his life.

They fight on a daily. It’s always the same story: stop singing, do your homework. I’m trying to sleep, please be quiet. You have an exam tomorrow, go to sleep.

It hurts Tommy to hear them shout insults back and forth. Even the music put as loud as possible can’t drown the shouting out. Tommy can’t help the tears from falling when he hears one of the doors being slammed shut, followed by more shouting from dad. 

They know why Wil isn’t working, they know he’s depressed and music is the only way for him to cope these days. Tommy knows it anyway, he thinks dad sometimes forgets that it isn’t easy for Wil to just study for his test. Tommy doesn’t know how it feels like, but he knows that the relationship between the two isn’t helping for either of them.

He wonders how Techno would react if he saw what was happening at home. He was always the favorite, even if no one said it out loud. He’d probably not care, he’d just lock himself in his room like he always did before. Not much changed after he went away for college, except for the shouting. They never saw him because he was in his room day in day out.

The tears only fall harder when he hears Wil calling dad a piece of shit, telling him how he’s not the boss of him. He tries not to listen when the door shuts once again full force, and a different door shuts not even a few seconds later with even more force.

Silence fills the house.

Tommy takes a deep shuddering breath and wipes his tears. He pauses the music on his phone and stands up from where he was sitting down on the ground. He knocks on dad’s door, going inside without waiting for an answer. He doesn’t say anything when he puts his phone on the desk next to the door and sits in front of his father on the double size bed.

“Are you okay?” Tommy asks sheepishly, ignoring Wil who’s still practically shouting to himself in the room next to them. Phil sighs angrily before beginning to rant. Tommy doesn’t catch everything from what is being told, only catching some of the usual.

“I’m sorry,” Phil excuses himself “I shouldn’t put all of this on you,” Tommy shuffles closer and engulfs his father in a hug.

“Everyone needs a shoulder to cry on, so do you,” Tommy reassures him. They lay down like that for another 5 minutes. By the time Phil broke the hug, Tommy could hear Wil calming down in the other room. Phil wipes his tears away.

“Go to your brother, I think he needs it,” Tommy smiles at his father, giving him a last reassuring hug before standing up from the bed and picking up his phone. He walks out the door and closes it softly behind him.

1 down, 2 to go

Tommy walks up to Wil’s door, knocking lightly. He can hear a faint ‘Leave me alone’ from inside, but Tommy pays no mind to the words. Wil would never make him leave, he would never shout at him. He opens the door softly.

Wil’s sitting on his bed, his head in his hands, gripping his hair tightly. Tommy walks further into the room, closing the door behind him. He walks up to Wil’s bed and sits down next to him, on the empty space.

He doesn’t say a word, rather going on Twitter. He scrolls through all the tweets from his friends, replying to some. Sometimes, he can’t help himself chuckle at some funnier tweets. The two of them sit next to each other in silence, both enjoying each other’s presence. 

“You want to talk about it?” Tommy asks, not looking up from his phone. 

“I just don’t know why dad can’t understand that it’s fucking hard for me to do these kinds of stuff as everyone else can. It has always been like that, I thought he would understand if I went to therapy and shit,” Wil says without hesitation, obviously needing to talk about his emotions “I know my grades are failing, her reminding me every single day won’t help me,” He hums in agreement from time to time, to make Wil think he’s still concentrating on what the man is saying. 

Tommy could fall asleep right there, and his brother probably wouldn’t notice, too deep in his rant. Tommy knows that they need to talk about that kind of stuff. They can’t talk to each other, because that evolves into even more shouting, so they can only talk to Tommy. Tommy understands this, he doesn’t mind listening to them.

He just wishes they would ask him how he’s doing. They don’t know he’s getting bullied in school. He wanted to tell them but he never had the chance. They would always be shouting at each other, or not be willing to listen to him because they need to rant themselves.

They don’t notice how he’s getting worse. He isn’t eating anymore, he barely sleeps and he feels numb more times than he would like to admit. Tommy is dragged out of his thoughts when he heard Wil stop talking, seemly done with his rant. 

They don’t say anything for a few minutes, just sitting in silence, neither on their phone. “Dad just has a hard time understanding,” Tommy says “I may not know what you’re going through, but you need to understand that this also isn’t easy for dad. You should talk about it with each other instead of shouting at each other,”

He feels arms wrap around him tightly. He hugs him back, a bit uncomfortable with the touch. “You’re right, Toms. I shouldn’t argue with him all the time,” Wil laughs a little “How have you been anyway?”

Tommy wants to tell him everything he’s feeling, he wants to tell him about the bullies, about his stomach pains, and how he can’t eat because of them. He wants to tell him how he’s sick of being there for everyone, but no one is there for him. 

“I’m okay,” Tommy answers, looking up with a small smile, a fake one, but Wil doesn’t need to know that. Wil ruffles his hair and stands up from his bed, walking to dad’s room. Tommy wants to punch himself. He finally had the opportunity to say something and he still messed up.

He felt tears come up again. He stands up from his brother’s bed and walks back to his room. He sits quietly on the ground, his arms are shaking a bit while he reaches for the blade he got out of the pencil sharpener. He takes it in his hands. He slowly lifts the blade over his wrist. He never really hurt himself, he could never do it. He has always felt good enough knowing what he could do to himself.

He pushes the blade in his skin and gasps, pulling the blade away. A drip of blood falls out of the fairly small wound. With instant regret, he puts pressure on the wound, running to the medical kit they had somewhere in the bathroom.

He looks around in the cabinets, trying to find it. After concluding that it isn’t in the bathroom, he sat down on the ground, his hand still pressed on his wrist. He knows Phil knows where the medical supplies are, but he really doesn’t want to bother them.

He walks back to his room shakily, falling back down where he sat before, a bloodied blade still on the ground. He picks up the blade and traces over his wound, he cuts the wound further open. A kind of calmness comes with the pain. 

He breathes in quietly and breathes back out. A breathing exercise he learned from all the breathing training Wil had to do after his panic attacks. 

He picks up the blade, walks downstairs, avoiding the room where dad and Wil were still talking, and depots it in the trash bin. He lets go of his blooding wrist, letting the blood trickle down his hand. 

He looks inside the medical cabinet, takes Wilbur’s anti-depressants he barely takes, and walks out the door. It’s late at night, the sky is dark and not a lot of people are outside. He walks to the docks, climbing up the rails. He sits and looks at the waves. They are unpredictable and unique. Tommy could look for hours at the sight.

He doesn’t have hours. He doesn’t want to have hours. He prepares a few messages to a few friends. He begins with Techno, to tell him he wishes he could’ve talked to him more if he wasn’t in his room.

Then, he writes to his dad. Explaining how he’s been feeling the past days, and saying his last goodbye. 

He writes something similar to Wil, but he tries to reassure how it isn’t his fault what had happened. Who knows how Wil will feel after his little brother committed…

Tommy can’t get the word out. Thinking about it makes everything too real. He will hesitate again as he does for every decision in his life. He’ll think about everyone but himself. 

Writing to Tubbo was the hardest thing he had to do. The boy was the only reason he made it this far. He doesn’t want Tubbo to think it’s his fault. It’s hard, but he thinks he wrote his feelings the best way he could.

He sends the messages and closes his phone completely. He doesn’t want to be found before he could leave this earth. He takes out the pills with shaking hands. The blood is still falling a little from his wound on the little box. He pours half of the pills in his hand. He pushes his thoughts who are telling him to stop to the back of his mind and swallows all the pills in his hand.

He pours the other half of the pills back in hand, the box falls forgotten on the ground. Tommy couldn’t care less. He hesitates.

If I’m this far, I can at least finish what I’ve begun.

He swallows the final pills. He doesn’t feel different, maybe a bit tired. He looks over at the waves. He jumps off the railing on the sand. Only now he notices he doesn’t have shoes on or a coat. He walks to the waves, every step slower than the other.

He falls on the ground when his feet hit the icy cold water. His face is half-covered with sand, but Tommy is numb to it all. He breathes in deeply, before breathing out. His world is black before he can finish his breath.


End file.
